Following the Black Book
by Luche Bergfrue
Summary: Arthur Kirkland loathes pirates. Upon being promoted, he meets his rebelious first Lieutenant, who seems to only bring him trouble and a very impractical flamboyant pirate who doesn't seem to understand the art of piracy. Would Arthur change his mind, or would his hatred only grow? AU - Us/UK, Fr/UK.
1. Listless Jones

_Note: Yes, there are plenty of grammar mistakes and inaccuracies. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Next chapter may be up in the next two weeks. Enjoy!_

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Chapter 1: Listless Jones

"First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland, reporting for duty." The Brit stood there stiff and nervous. Even in his finest and most heavily embellished Lieutenant's garments, he still felt like it wasn't nearly enough to impress the three Admirals that sat before him.

Arthur knew they were eyeing him. Eyeing every seam, every wrinkle, every sparkling gem and button on him. What made him even more anxious was the fact that the admirals did not speak to him. They had not told him the reason why he was standing before them. The young man had plenty of guesses, but none were believable or were possible. He ran through the list silently in his mind in the continuing, tense silence.

"First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland, we have heard many things about you," one of the heavily decorated Admirals said, as he gave Arthur an unexpected smile.

Arthur could only pray that his good deeds had passed through word of mouth, and nothing more. He dared not to speak out of turn; for fear that he might be breaking a rule. There were two things that we were afraid of in that very moment: one being that the Admiral was smiling because of his unholy deeds and two being that the Admiral to punish him _would _be the one smiling.

"Relax, Lieutenant. Have a seat," the smiling Admiral gestures towards the seat in front of the three. "We are here to speak about your new station."

Arthur stared wide-eyed. "A new station? The captain has become tired of me? What have I done to deserve this!?" He thought back to the moments when he'd fallen asleep on duty, due to being too easily inebriated. Arthur would be happy that he wasn't caught; however his "friends" within the ranks were not. The Brit was rarely punished for his misconducts, which led him to not having very many friends. In fact, his "friends" believed that he was blackmailing the captain. "Poppycock!" He cursed in his mind, begging to God that it wasn't the case.

The Admiral raised an eyebrow at Arthur, sensing that it would perhaps be better if he did not drag on the news. "Do you not have faith in yourself?"

The poor Lieutenant still sat stiffly, clenching his hands into firsts. He frowned, confused at the question. Arthur finally managed to reply a measly, "P-Pardon?"

"I said do you not have faith in yourself?" The Admiral repeated.

"Clearly not," the Admiral to the right of the one who had spoken finally put down the book he had been writing in.

Something inside of Arthur snapped. It was as if he had forgotten that he was sitting in front of his three superiors. He stood up, frowning and slamming his hands onto the table that separated the three figures from him. "I have faith in myself. Now, do I have faith in you three to tell me my new post? If not, I would rather return to my job, sir."

"Sit down, Kirkland!" The third Admiral who had remained quiet stood up, pointing his blade at Arthur. "Know your place!"

The first Admiral forced the third to return to his seat. "I apologize. Now, your new post is on the H.M.S. Victory, as Captain."

"I see thank you, Admiral." Then it hit Arthur. He wondered if he was dreaming. After a few seconds, he tried to think of a humble reply, "Sir, there seems to be a mistake. I'm no captain; I am simply just a first lieutenant."

"You idiot, this is a promotion. So shut up and get the hell out of this office." The third Admiral waved him away.

"Thank you! Thank you! You won't be disappointed." Arthur had finally what he wanted. "H.M.S. Victory! Wow!" He smiled ear to ear, as he walked down the corridors, hand sweeping his pale blonde hair. The Brit still wondered if he was dreaming, or perhaps if this was a cruel joke.

The moment he set his glistening emerald eyes on the corvette, Arthur just knew he wasn't dreaming.

H.M.S. Victory was a rather plain corvette. The only thing that made it unique from the other corvettes docked were two things: the rather sad excuse for a dolphin figurehead and the name crudely painted on the side. This specific corvette carried 16 guns. Despite its lack of armaments, the corvette made up with its speed.

"Speed, the one thing those Spanish bastards didn't have. I couldn't have asked for a better ship!" Arthur said to himself, smiling ear to ear.

Upon boarding, the crew greeted their new captain with open arms. They didn't quite seem to be the most sanitary bunch. In fact the crew was very much lacking.

Arthur couldn't help but ask, "Where's the rest of you?" The amount of crewmen that stood on the deck were about half of the usual total.

"This is everyone, Captain Kirkland," a member simply replied to him.

"Are you bloody serious?" All Arthur could think of how sad this sorry excuse of a crew was. He sighed, "Bloody hell, they're definitely making me work. All of you, clean this pigsty up. I want to see my face in every door knob and I better not see a shirt on the floor. If not, then your beloved rum will be mine and only _mine_."

The crew scurried away, immediately getting to work.

After a while, a young man had wandered onto the ship. He was perhaps in his late teens. His piercing blue eyes looked around, observing the crew.

Arthur approached him from behind, "If you are looking for your friend, he's busy cleaning my ship. You best never come back until we leave and dock again."

"So the rumours are true! The new the captain of this ship is a prick!" He smiled brightly.

"WHAT!? Mind your tongue, boy. Do you know who you are talking to?" Arthur crossed his arms tapping his food impatiently. He wanted to know who the young man was and what he wanted so he could return to mapping out trade routes.

"Captain Kirkland! Well I was told to come here and tell you that I'm your new Lieutenant!" The boy happily quipped, smiling brightly.

Arthur glared at him. "Is this a joke?" He really didn't like the boy.

"Nope! Sorry bro! By the way, my name is Alfred! Alfred F. Jones!" Alfred stretched out a hand to Arthur.

Arthur took his hand, gripping it tightly and giving it one good shake before letting go. "Lieutenant Jones, then you best help your friends clean this ship. Otherwise no one will have rum."

"Oh that's fine! I don't drink," Alfred said blissfully.

The blissful tone was too much for Arthur. He was annoyed with the young lad. "Oh? So you'd rather be the cause of the crew's unhappiness?"

"I didn't say that I wouldn't help them! Calm down Cap!" Alfred seemed to sense Arthur's patience growing thin. The blissful lad seemed amused. Amused at how easily the young captain had become agitated. "See? I'll go help them right now!"

Arthur just simply shook his head as Alfred escaped to the lower decks. He was grateful that he left and said nothing more.

The captain was usually calm. Not many things would stir him up. However there was something about Alfred that annoyed him. The teen's voice lingered in his mind as he looked through the trade routes. "Why did Jones have to be a Lieutenant?" Arthur thought to himself letting out another sigh. "If Jones was a simple midshipman, I could take away his permission to speak!" After a few moments of thinking, he believed that Jones could calm down after a while. "Perhaps it was just to test my authority," Arthur thought. He believed that no midshipman would be able to advance to lieutenant if they weren't knowledgeable and able. The young man shook his head ridding himself of absurd thoughts, deciding that he should perhaps focus on the important task in front of him.

Eventually the day came when they were finally heading out to sea. The crew had been completed, the food stocked, and their agitated captain had finally seemed to relax. The crewmen who were new to the ranks of the British Navy seemed even more so excited. Their older peers simply ignored the newer crew members, getting right to work.

Arthur walked about the ship, upon getting to a good area in the middle of the sea. He knew that it would be a few hours until they hit a trade route. If they were lucky, they could even cross a merchant ship. He smiled to himself, "Things are going to be just fine."

Just then, the sounds of laughter came from below deck. The captain made his rounds above deck quicker than usual, wanting to catch them. He snuck down the stairs to the lower deck, listening in.

"His eyebrows are like giant hairy caterpillars! Have you seen them?" A collective growl of laughter followed after.

Arthur frowned touching his brows. "Who the bloody hell could be making such accusations so early in the voyage?" He thought to himself. The captain closed his eyes, hearing that voice make another remark. "JONES!"

The dirty blonde man turned towards the entrance to see the captain standing there. "Uh oh," Alfred quipped.

The other crew members scattered. Others pretended that they were just simply there, eating in the mess hall. The others pretending that they suddenly had forgotten something extremely important, leaving immediately. Only a few seemed to sit down, wondering what was going to happen next.

"Insubordination!" Arthur yelled pointing at Alfred. "I will not tolerate you making accusations!"

Alfred blinked innocently, "Accusations? Captain, they're really just observations."

A few chuckles were heard within the room, however many didn't dare to. The other crewmembers held their breaths, wondering of what their captain could possibly do next. They didn't believe that Arthur was a harsh captain and would punish Jones. They honestly believed that their captain were those who were "all bark but no bite" sort of captain.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Alfred challenged his captain.

"I guess you'll be the first to find out," the captain took out his pistol, gesturing towards the stairs to the upper deck.

Alfred held out his hands. He knew that the captain meant business and headed up towards the deck. The lieutenant wasn't afraid of the captain. However now at gunpoint, he was seriously re-considering if he really _should_ be afraid.

"Remove your shirt and kneel with your back to me! Second Lieutenant, get my whip!" Arthur smirked. He could finally demonstrate how he disciplined crew members that had broken the rules. "With this, the crew should begin to fear me!" He thought.

The second lieutenant handed the whip to his captain and stood back to watch the scene unfold.

"Are you sorry for what you have done?" Arthur fingered the grip of the leather whip.

"No! I was just observing!" Alfred turns to face Arthur sending back a glare just as deadly as Arthur's.

"I will take that as a no." Arthur lifted his hand high, giving Alfred one hard and swift strike.

The teen did not flinch or make a sound. Not even after the second strike, the third strike, the fourth strike, or even the fifth and final strike. Traces of the whip having kissed his back were evident.

"Are you sorry for what you have done?" Arthur asked again in a stern tone, hoping that Alfred had had enough.

"Is that the best you can do?" Alfred muttered quietly, barely audible to anyone around.

"Pardon? If that was an apology, it would be nice if you could speak up, Mr. Jones." Arthur smiled.

The lieutenant turned, smiling poisonously, "I said I was sorry captain and that I would never observe again!"

"Good." The captain rolled up the whip handing it back to the second lieutenant. "Get back to work!"

After a few hours, H.M.S. Victory was positioned along the French trade route. Most of the ships were simple trade ships on their way to Africa or the New World. The trade ships usually carried fabric, jewellery, weapons and the occasional chest filled with gold coins. However what were considered as the true prizes for the royal navy, were the guard ships themselves. There usually were at least one or two sailing alongside the large bulky trade ships. If there were more, then a pirate or a buccaneer knew that the cargo were very important. The warships usually had anywhere from 20 to 50 cannons. But every sailor knows that choosing firepower causes mobility to suffer.

Arthur stood at the wheel looking around the seemingly endless horizon. He wondered if they were going to be lucky enough to come across a ship. It's been days since he has participated in battle. The young captain continued to survey the horizon. Upon nightfall, he had decided to get some rest and headed to his quarters. As he did he heard a roar of laughter. The young man knew that the crew was quite jolly, and thought that they all could have perhaps drunk a bit too much. "As a captain, it's my job to make sure that we're ready for battle. I should at least remind them not to drink so much to the point where they pass out!" He thought to himself heading to the lower decks and into the mess hall.

The sight that he saw had put him into a dead stop. It was not that the young captain was surprised, it was because of disbelief. Rage began to fill him down to the very tips of his fingers. Arthur knew he had to get a hold of himself. "Perhaps Jones is just telling stories of his youth?" He tried to convince himself.

"It's Captain Eyebrows!" Alfred smiled, pointing at him with a challenging smirk. "I was just telling the crew how much it stung for you to whip me! It was kind of sad. You know it hurts more to be bitten by a dog."

The inebriated crew's laughter echoed throughout the mess hall. A few even fell over clutching their stomachs.

Arthur was not happy. "How dare he insult me!" the young captain thought. He had grabbed his pistol once again, like the first time that he had overheard Alfred. "Get up!" This was the last straw and the young captain was not going to go easy on the young teen what so ever. He wanted for Alfred to know that he was his captain, and that he was just a mere lieutenant that could easily be demoted to the lowest of the low.

"Or what?" The lieutenant didn't stand; he chose to challenge the young captain's authority further. "You don't have the guts to shoot me! Do I really look like I care if I get demoted again?"

Arthur's hand shook with rage. "No Jones, I will not demote you yet. Dying is also such an easy way out. Come onto the deck. All of you. Unless you all would also like to be punished?" His voice was strangely calm, yet dark.

The crew knew that the captain wasn't joking. They watched Lieutenant Jones with pity. The crew had seen their captain angry, but not this angry.

"You know what to do," Arthur said as he waited for the second lieutenant to grab his whip once again.

Alfred removed his shirt, glaring at Arthur. "This shouldn't hurt too much," he thought to himself. "I've been through worse," He continued to tell himself. Fear crept into the listless form that sat before the captain.

Arthur watched his back as the whip was gingerly handed to him. "Thirty-five lashes for insubordination, insulting me, and being a bad influence for the crew."

Gasps were heard among the crewmembers that circled the two. That was much more than the five lashes their first lieutenant had earned earlier. They knew that it would be painful for Jones, but all they could do was stare pitifully at his bruised back.

The young captain caressed the handle of the long leather whip. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He questioned as he walked slowly around Alfred.

"That you're an ass," Alfred spat at his captain knowingly that he'd only anger the captain even more. "Do you really have to make a spectacle of me in front of the whole crew?"

Arthur simply answered, "Yes." He lifted his hand and without warning, hit Alfred's back.

The young sailor did not flinch. In fact he _refused_ to. He did not want the captain to have the satisfaction of hearing him cry out or seem in pain. However he knew that were would be a point where he might not be able to help it as the whip hit him for the second time.

The captain continued to brutally hit the lieutenant, who was lurched over in front of him. By the twentieth lash, the teen's back was sweating. Blood had begun to drip from the ugly welts. Despite that, the teen has not uttered a single sound, nor had flinched.

Alfred's hands were as white as the shirt that he hand clenched. He kept thinking that thirty-five lashes were nothing compared to being keelhauled. The pain was great but he tried to focus on other things, keeping his eyes to the deck.

"Are you sorry for what you've done?" Arthur paused the whipping, readying to strike the boy. When Alfred didn't reply he hit him. "Were you sorry for what you've done?" he repeated himself in a more forceful tone.

"No!" Alfred spat at him shaking from the pain. "You're a brutal dictator who resolves things with violence! Why would I be sorry? And if you ask if I fear you, I don't!"

"I see. Then perhaps you can handle twenty more!" The captain did not wish to punish Jones any further. He knew that he would incapacitate the young man in front of him; however he knew at least the crew would fear him more. By the thirtieth lash, he swore he could have seen his lieutenant flinch. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. "Are you sorry for what you've done?"

Alfred could barely move. His back was burning and his hands were too numb to feel the shirt he'd clutched. The teen's mind was foggy as his vision. When he'd heard the captain's question, he could only manage to whisper, "No."

"What? I can't hear you Jones!" He leaned down using the whip to lift Alfred's head. As he met with the Lieutenant's empty azure eyes, his heart seemed to skip a beat. The young captain saw what seemed to be tears flowing down the other's cheek. For some strange reason, he couldn't bring himself to administer the last twenty lashes. To the captain's surprise, Jones swayed and collapsed onto him.

Alfred had lost consciousness and didn't seem to be waking anytime soon.


	2. Knowing the Ropes

_Note: Yes, there are plenty of grammar mistakes and historically inaccurate stuff._

_Warning: Boy x boy. There will only be more in future chapters._

_Next chapter may be up in the next two weeks. Enjoy!_

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Chapter Two: Knowing the Ropes

The seas were calm. The marvellous never-ending blue glistened around the wooden vessel. It was kind to the ship's captain, who leaned against the rail.

Arthur's green earthy eyes just stared as he bathed into the early rays of the sun. The captain's youthful vigour showed, as well as his emotions. Calm and collected, this was a definite contrast to his messy hair. However despite that, the wind still seemed to carry the golden locks with it as well as the seemingly heavy fabric of his coat.

A young man approached him Captain Kirkland. His azure eyes sparkled. "Hey Cap! Why are you sitting there looking pretty?" said Jones. At least that was what Jones would have said before he'd woken up, groaned in excruciating pain.

"Well look at that! The little bastard has finally woken up!" said the surgeon, holding a bone saw.

Alfred would have commented, but he was distracted from the burning sensation of his back. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About a good three days, lad! It'll hurt, but you've at least slept through the worst part of it!" The surgeon laughed, sharpening the bone saw. "You know, that's really gutsy of you, boy! Lashed and only to be lashed again in the afternoon!" The older man's voice became soft, almost a caring tone, as if he were speaking to his own son. "However, I really don't want to see you get hurt anymore. I know you may not like this captain, but it's not worth dying over."

The surgeon's change of tone surprised the older teen, looking at the wall and the bed beneath his stomach. "Yeah whatever." He muttered closing his eyes.

"May I ask? Why are you so hell bent on pissing off the captain?" The sounds of a rock gliding over the metal saw ceased as the older man waited for Alfred's reply.

"He just pisses me off." Alfred replied simply as he winced, adjusting himself.

The older man raised an eyebrow. "That's not a valid reason boy; now give me a good one! If ya don't, I won't give you whiskey today!" The curious surgeon chimed.

"No fair, dude!" The young lieutenant whined. "I just hate people who are pricks and like to do everything by the rules. Who the hell needs that little black book shit anyway? Five lashes my ass for falling asleep on accident!" Alfred felt his voice rising, but he didn't care.

"Shhhh!" The surgeon stood up and opened the door. His eyes swept through the hallway, and shut the door returning to his seat. "The boy is a new captain, lad. Of course he'd still have the rulebook memorized." The older man tried to explain to Alfred.

The young lieutenant just sighed loudly, pretending to have dozed off. The image of the captain's face before he'd collapsed flashed in his mind. Alfred wondered if the captain was surprised about the tears. _"Why the hell wouldn't he be?" _He thought, as he wondered if the captain had ever been whipped at all for insubordination. Alfred looked at the surgeon, who was occupied with his saw. "Can I have some whiskey, now? My back really burns."

"Of course." The surgeon held up a bottle to Alfred's mouth.

The young lieutenant winced as he raised himself in order to drink a bit of the liquid. He knew it was well worth it. After a few long minutes, the pain had finally subsided into a dull prickling. He was finally able to doze off.

Alfred dreamt of the captain that he loathed so much. However the dream wasn't violent or full of hate. In fact all of his dreams were like that of the captain. In this particular dream, _the _Captain Kirkland had been nursing the wounds on his back. _"This would never happen in real life."_ The young lieutenant thought as he sighed softly.

"I apologize." Alfred heard the captain as he spoke in his dream. "I know it's painful." He felt the captain's nimble fingers run down his back. Alfred shivered as he thought of how real the captain's fingers felt. "I didn't mean to get carried away." A gentle hand ran thought his hair.

The young lieutenant was frozen in realization. His back had begun to throb, and the captain's hand had not left. _"Fuck, I am awake!" _Alfred debated whether to open his eyes. He knew if he did, the captain might leave. _"Wait, if he leaves then that's a good thing!" _He thought, but couldn't bring himself to. The fingers that had run through his dirty blonde locks were so gentle, that he almost wished that the captain wouldn't stop.

The hand had gone, and the older teen had convinced his own self to open his eyes, to see who it really was. He saw a flash of the captain's red coat as he walked off. _"But why would the captain want to apologize to a delinquent like me?"_ He thought, as he found that he could sit up.

A week later, Jones had returned to work. His back no longer pained him, and didn't get another visit from the captain after that day. Captain Kirkland continued to be tough on his crew.

As obedient the captain's crew was now, all that effort was useless. The captain had not found a way to show his strength in battles. Not a single Spanish or pirate ship had come across him as of yet.

Arthur had become impatient. He paced on the deck, and sighed. Occasionally, his eyes would catch the blonde he'd wounded. His lieutenant had returned to his usual chipper self. However, as he's predicted, his lieutenant had continued to avoid him. He sighed and thought, _"Its better this way."_ Arthur knew if he were to become too close with anyone, that he may become too used to the socialization.

Another day had passed and Arthur's patience had run low and so had his crew's supplies. The captain forced to sail back in order to restock their ration.

In the bustling marketplace near the harbour, Arthur had decided to walk around. The young lieutenant followed him, only because Arthur had ordered him to in case he'd found a case of whiskey for a marked down price. He also believed that it wouldn't be a bad thing to befriend his lieutenant. _"He could be the one saving my behind, in the future for all I know."_ The young captain thought.

"Hey cap, aren't we like supposed to be attacking other ships?" Jones asked, looking through the crowds, continuing to avoid Arthur's gaze.

"Yes, we are, but no one has come into our area." Arthur muttered, he didn't wish to admit the simple fact to his lieutenant. "If you have an idea, it would definitely be welcome."

"Not really. But I overheard some guy say that there's H.M.S. Mary had been patrolling the area off the coast of Spain." Alfred scratched his head thinking. "Wait, weren't we sailing around that area, cap?"

"Well yes we were," Arthur said as his eyes widened. "That explains everything!" He grabbed Alfred's hand without thinking and ran back to their ship.

"Whoa! What?" Alfred attempted to pull away, but the captain was clearly not listening. The same nimble fingers that had nursed his wounds were now in his hand. He watched the captains face that had lit up. _"Stop looking so happy. I may enjoy watching you like this too much." _Alfred though, giving Arthur's hand a squeeze.

The captain didn't seem to notice, though his excitement, but since that day he'd seen a change in Jones's behaviour.

The young lieutenant had begun to speak and bother the captain more often. He sometimes took the captain's hand like a child would, dragging him to the mess hall for dinner. On days when the captain seemed to be stressing about paperwork on the crew, Jones would occasionally bring him something from the mess hall, as if there weren't enough drinks within the captain's quarters. There were days when he'd sit there, until Arthur had fallen asleep reading. The captain knew well that the lieutenant was still there and watching him, but he didn't mind his presence.

With the ship repositioned, the captain and the crew's spirits were restored. He'd told his crewmen to begin sharpening their swords and loading their pistols. They were finally going to see battle after the long month of having done nothing, other than floating around.

It was early in the morning. The sun had risen and the crew had already switched posts. The seas were steady and the wind was quiet. There were barely any clouds in the sky.

Captain Kirkland stood watching the horizon. _"Anytime now."_ He whispered to himself as he checked his silver pocket watch.

"Merchant ship from the east, heading our way! I can't make out their flag! But they look a bit too armed just to be a merchant ship" A crewman yelled up on the lookout.

The captain smirked and commanded his crew. "Wake the rest! All hands on deck!" A bell chimed throughout the ship, followed by absolute stillness and silence. The captain watched quietly as the ship approached.

The curious young lieutenant put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You nervous, cap?" Jones said, as he prepared the grappling hooks. "So what's the plan?"

"Gun them down then board, we don't want to hurt the ship any more than we need." Arthur bit his lip, getting ready to duck down below deck, to command his men.

"Cap, I thought we're supposed to do that only for warships. Isn't that just a Howker? What if it's not Spanish?" Alfred scratched his head.

The Howker, which was also known as a "Horque" by the French, was just a small merchant vessel. This particular one had an odd looking mast. The ship was not going very quickly, indicating that it could be full of cargo at the moment.

"We can't be too sure. It could be a bloody pirate ship. Now would you rather be taken by surprise, or would you rather be ready for anything?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at the older teen.

"On your command, captain. We're ready to board." The lieutenant simply said.

As the ship neared, its flag was finally distinguishable. It's black flag fiercely waving in the wind. When the banner stretched out, the symbol of a skull and crossbones were finally seen. The ship had arrived within the range of the canons, and slowly begun to turn broadside towards H.M.S. Victory.

"They're bloody pirates! Fire!" The captain ran below deck screaming, followed by Jones. "Get closer! Be ready to board!" Arthur ran to the upper decks, taking the wheel from his second lieutenant.

Wood splintered everywhere, and screams of the crew below upon being hit broadside. The canons stopped a few minutes later, and sounds of pistols firing echoed around instead. Then soon after, metal and metal being hit against each other.

Captain Kirkland had boarded alongside Jones, cutting down anyone in their way. The French crewmembers on the Howker were inexperienced on hand-to-hand combat. Eventually it came down to Captain Kirkland and the captain of the pirate ship.

The pirate captain wore a powder blue, silk coat. He looked more extravagant than threatening. The Frenchman obviously followed the fashions of the period closely, according to his large and heavily decorated hat that sat upon his curly golden hair. He eyed and raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "Are you the captain of that ship? Let's not spill anymore blood, oui?"

Arthur grimaced. He didn't expect the pirate captain to be so _flamboyant_ in looks. The fighting around them had ceased; everyone wanted to watch the two captains duel it out. Cutlass in hand and a pistol with only one shot in the other, he knew he had to win. If he'd lost, he'd have failed his nation, his crew, and himself. Most of all, he didn't want to lose to a captain like _that_.

The other captain lunged at Arthur. He easily parried the hit, and immediately retaliated by slashing towards the pirate captain. His sword contacted with the fabric, but was not able to cut through. Arthur could see his opponent cocking his pistol. _"Dirty cheat!"_ He thought, but he realized that he'd been holding his pistol the whole time. He knew that this was the moment where he'd die or the moment where he'd rise to glory. In one swift movement, Captain Kirkland raised his pistol along with the pirate captain.

Gasps echoed around them. Either one of the captains could prevail. There was also a chance of neither of the captains making it.

A shot was fired and the world seemed to hold its breath. Both captains stared into each other's eyes panting. A trail of smoke from the pistol that had fired the deciding shot. "Not bad, not bad." The pirate captain clutched his own rib with splotches of red spreading onto his golden vest.

Captain Kirkland stared in shock, but was taken aback when the pirate captain fell upon his knees before him. His crewmen cheered.

"Captain!" Alfred had watched the entire thing, holding his breath. Relief washed over him, seeing that Arthur was alright. "Oh man! That was awesome!" The young lieutenant wrapped his arms around Arthur without thinking, and squeezed him tightly.

"Ow! That hurts you big oaf!" He replaced his pistol and sword into their proper holsters. Arthur looked around at the rest of the pirate crew, with their hands in the air. "Congratulations boys on your first takeover of a pirate ship! Take the crew down to the cells and tend to the wounded! By that I also mean their captain. I'd like to see him struggle on a noose, rather than die by a shot." Arthur smiled sheepishly.

"Remember my name, Captain Francis Bonnefoy!" Francis gritted his teeth. "This will not be the last time you see of me!" He yelled at Captain Kirkland. However to his dismay, the captain completely ignored him as he was dragged below deck.

Upon looking around the ship's cargo hold, they find that the flamboyant Captain Bonnefoy has had the chance to attack a few merchant ships. It had plenty of useless finery, enough for the crew to earn quite a bit from their usual salary. After they had returned to the English port, they happily handed the pirates and merchant ship to the authorities. They honestly didn't care what happened to Francis. However there was one more deed that needed to be done. They needed to celebrate.

Arthur has led his crew to the local pub. "You boys did a wonderful job! Now let's all drink, be merry, and hope that we catch more pirates!"

The crew cheered, happily raising their glasses in the air. A night of drinking, women and dancing had begun.

The young captain, being unable to hold his liquor, became inebriated very quickly. Rather than stopping he drunk throughout the night. "Another glass!" He told the bartender, who looked at him questioningly this time.

Alfred was sitting near Arthur, but he'd heard rumours of what a horrid drunk his captain was. He stood up and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder. "Cap, hey! How you doin'?"

"I want another drink!" Arthur's words slurred heavily. His breath smelled of whiskey.

"Cap, don't you think you've had enough for the night?" Alfred tried to convince him. "I know! How about we go to the ship! We can drink there!" The young lieutenant hoped that he could at least save his captain from embarrassing himself in public. He did consider leaving him there, but he thought of how Arthur would not ruin _his_ public reputation. _"This guy is really hopeless!"_ He thought, slinging Arthur's arm over his own shoulders.

"No, I want another drink right here!" Arthur protested loudly.

"Trust me, cap! If I was hopelessly drunk, you'd do the same." Alfred walked out of the pub slowly. He himself was tipsy, but not as drunk as the captain. The worst that could happen was that they'd fall over into the harbour. "We're almost there, cap. Hang in there!" He slowly climbed the ramp that extended into the ship, with his drunken captain.

"Whatever." Arthur allowed himself to be led into his quarters, as he leaned heavily onto Alfred's shoulder. "Better give me the good whiskey." He continued to babble about how hard his life was with his brothers.

The lieutenant had managed to sit his captain onto a chair. He sighed, listening to the captain babble. _"I feel kind of sorry for him,"_ he thought.

"Where's my whiskey!?" Arthur glared at him. His face was flushed. The poor captain was too inebriated to realize that he'd had a bit too much.

"Cap, really, I think you've had enough." Alfred laughed uneasily, eyeing the captain carefully.

"Useless prick. Fine, if you won't get it, then I will!" Arthur stood up. As soon as he did, the room began to spin. He tried to steady himself by holding onto the smooth coffee table beside him. Before he knew it, he was headed right to the floor. The young captain squeezed his eyes shut, believing he'd find himself on the ground. Instead he found Alfred underneath him. "What the bloody hell are you doing down 'ere with me?"

When Alfred had seen Arthur tip over, he immediately caught him. However he was caught off guard with the sudden weight. The young man stared at the captain who lay on top of him. "Well, I tried to catch you. You're heavier than you look!" Alfred laughed uneasily. He stared at the captain's emerald eyes. He felt as if he was being dragged into them. As if he was being seduced by the green orbs.

The captain tried to get up. He only managed to get closer to Alfred's face. He didn't realize it, but Alfred did.

The lieutenant blushed furiously. "Hey cap, get you get off me? I'll help you get up!"

"Mmm, I'm too comfortable. Shut up and let me go to sleep." Arthur protested. He unknowingly ran his fingers in Alfred's dirty blonde hair, stroking his head.

Alfred's face was bright red. _"The captain is really close to my face. The captain's hand is running through my hair. The captain is on top of me. The captain is-"_ He was cut off in mid thought when he felt something soft on his lips. The young man snapped out of it realizing that it was the captain's lips that were on his. He wanted to push Arthur away. Alfred would have, however he somewhat _liked_ it.

Arthur wasn't entirely sure of what he was doing. He knew that he was kissing someone, but not who. When he'd opened his eyes, he stared at Alfred. The young man's face was bright red. In his foggy, confused state of mind, he didn't know what to make out of the situation. The man sat up, looking down at a confused lieutenant. "Those can't be your lips! They're too soft!"

_"He's so fucking drunk!"_Alfred thought as he sighed at the insult. He wondered whether these were Arthur's true feelings, or if he was just an absolute hopeless drunk. Whichever it was, the lieutenant didn't know what to think of the situation. Alfred stared at Arthur, unsure of what to do next. The lieutenant knew that this man's judgement was clouded by the amount of alcohol he'd had.

Arthur tried to kiss his lieutenant again. He didn't know why, he just wanted to. His eyes closed as he did and everything turned black.


	3. At East, Carry On Kirkland

_Note: Yes, there are plenty of grammar mistakes and historically inaccurate stuff._

_Warning: Boy x boy. There will only be more in future chapters._

_Next chapter may be up in the next two weeks. Enjoy!_

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Chapter Three: At Ease, Carry On Kirkland

Arthur Kirkland sat on the edge of the harbour, staring at the horizon. His brows knitted, and he seemed to be in deep thought. He allowed his mind to wander like the tides that constantly rose and fell. Arthur sighed, allowing himself to finally enjoy the salty breeze as he sat at the edge of harbour. "_America isn't so bad, or Boston at least isn't_," he thought, as his eyes fell onto his reflection in the water.

Since the events four months ago, his first lieutenant had become distant. Alfred continued to do his duties as they sailed to the Americas. In fact, he'd done his job so well that the captain only occasionally had caught a glimpse of him the entire trip.

The captain wondered happened that night in his quarters. "_Alfred is avoiding me, so something must have happened._" He thought, eyes going back to the reddened horizon. Arthur admitted to himself that he had been avoiding conflict. "_I did ask the crew about Jones, so that is something, right?_" He shook his head. The young captain knew that he couldn't avoid Jones any further. However, rather than getting up to apologize, he just sat there and continued to dig into the archives of his memory. He desperately tried to remember what had happened. The young man knew that he may never remember. "_If only I wasn't so drunk!_" He knew that those thoughts were mere wishes, which would never come true.

After a while, realization had finally hit the captain. "_Why do I care so much about Jones?_" He laughed to himself and thought how stupid it was. "_Jones was just kissing up to me! Of course he would stop trying after realizing that I can't be swayed!_" Arthur beamed, upon reaching a verdict. However something inside of him felt disappointed. "_I believed every word he'd said before._" Arthur had convinced himself that the lieutenant wanted a friend and a comrade in arms.

Once again, the Arthur shook his head to rid it of thoughts. He knew he had to ready the ship for departure back to the British Isles. "_Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland would mope. Captain Arthur Kirkland would get back on his feet and make sure that all the rations were set! The crew depends on me!"_ He stood up with renewed confidence, and strode back to his ship, H.M.S. Victory.

The last of the crew members were bringing in the last crate of rations. Their captain had allowed them one more day of rest before heading out to the open sea for the next three to four months. A majority of the crew were relieved that they were leaving soon. The colony they had docked in didn't seem to welcome them much. In fact there was no welcome at all. The crewmen were relieved that they were at least welcomed in the establishments, which were mainly the taverns and inns. However they were even more so relieved when they learned that they didn't have to escort the nobleman back to England.

Arthur sat again at the edge of the dock, sighing as he watched the sun dip further into the horizon. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned. To his surprise, it was Alfred. "_Of all the people that could have needed something from me today._" He thought as he plastered a smile on his face. "What is it that you need from me, Lieutenant?"

"I think I'll stay here." Alfred had said in a solemn voice. A long and dreadful silence followed after.

"What?" Arthur stood up, frowning. "What are you trying to say? You can't just desert your post, Alfred!" The young captain felt his voice rising. He felt his hands clump into tight fists. He knew he had to calm down.

"I asked for a transfer to here." Alfred said simply. "They said they'd let me transfer. If that's alright with you, Cap."

"Of course not! I would be losing a lieutenant the day before we set sail again! Look, if this was about four months ago-" Arthur was interrupted suddenly by Alfred.

"Four months ago? You know what you are? You are a horrible drunk! That's what happened four months ago, so you should forget about it." The lieutenant yelled back.

"I know I can't hold my liquor! I'd forget about it if I could remember! Could you just _please_ elaborate as to why you have been avoiding me after that? I know I should not complain, because you do what you are told, but why the sudden change, Jones?" Arthur crossed his arms, as he wondered if Alfred would deliver him a straight and truthful answer. "Alfred, to me you are not just my lieutenant, but my comrade in arms. I had hoped that we'd become good friends." He believed that his words would put the lieutenant at ease. Once again, the dreadful silence followed.

The older teen was at a loss for words. His mind was buzzing once again. He personally believed that avoiding the captain would be the best choice. Alfred had felt that he had become too dangerously close to the captain. "_What I want is not in the captain's best interest._" The young lieutenant thought to himself. He took a step forward, speaking quietly. "Captain, it's just that, I don't feel comfortable around you."

"You felt plenty comfortable when you'd drag me to the mess hall, Alfred. I know the first month since we've met was not your best days, but I truly am sorry for overdoing things. Like I've said before, Alfred to me you are also my comrade, possibly a good friend, and also a great lieutenant." Arthur frowned, becoming frustrated.

Alfred felt the captain's frustrations towards him as his own grew. He did not want to tell Arthur what he felt and most definitely not what he thought when he'd see him.

"Just tell me! I want to understand, Alfred!" Arthur's voice rose again.

The lieutenant suddenly grabbed Arthur's arm, pulling him closer. He leaned down pecking the captain softly on the lips, effectively stunning the captain. "This is what you did to me four months ago." He softly kissed him once again on the lips. "This is how I feel, and this is why I can't be around you. Do you understand now?"

Arthur shoved Alfred away, wiping his lips with his sleeve and stood there mortified. Suddenly, the memory of what had happened rushed into his mind. "Bloody hell." He took a step back and squatted onto the deck as he rubbed his temple. The young captain didn't know how to feel.

"Say something, Arthur." Alfred whispered, his cheeks a tint of red. His eyes averted his captain's.

"I guess I mistook you for a lady! You do have that sort of face!" Arthur laughed uneasily, but stopped once he saw the expression of hurt on his lieutenant's face. "I-I think it would be for the best for you to transfer." Arthur finally stood up. "Jones, until we meet again." He extended his hand, smiling towards Alfred.

Alfred knew that the captain's smile was false. However he had his answer now, taking Arthur's hand. "Thank you, captain." He couldn't bring himself to smile. The young lieutenant knew that nothing would come from falling in love with the captain. Yet his heart protested otherwise, as he watched Arthur begin to walk away, then break into a sprint.

The captain sat in his quarters in an empty ship. His fingers grazed his own lips, as he wondered. "_Why me? If Alfred was a young lady, then this would be different."_ Arthur laughed to himself. "_I wished upon a star for a beautiful young woman, only to have a big clumsy oaf profess his love to me in the most vulgar way._" He shook his head, laying onto his bed and closing his eyes and as he dozed off. "_At least after today, I won't ever have to see him again."_

In the morning, Arthur woke up and looked at the mirror. To his surprise, there were tear stains on his cheek. "_Perhaps I had a bad dream last night. I should be grateful that I can't remember it._" The captain though. He didn't want to admit that the tears were perhaps for not wanting to say goodbye to Jones. The young captain shook his head and carried on.

The captain strode out to the deck where the crewmen had gathered. "Now, boys, I hope you had all had enough of land, because we're going to be out at sea for a while. Let's make it home safely!" He smiled, somehow expecting to see his ex-lieutenant next to his second lieutenant. His heart sank, realizing that Alfred was not there and he was never going to be there again. Arthur stared out to the harbour, as it shrunk and finally disappeared into the distance.

Approximately four months later, Captain Kirkland's crew had arrived safely in the British Isles. As he walked into the building to turn in his report, he was met with news. News that had put him in a position he never wanted to be in.

During the time his crew were sailing back, peace had been made with Spain and France. The amount of piracy had also decreased.

Arthur found himself in the position of no longer being needed by the British navy. Just like his ship and his crew, he too was decommissioned.

The young man was angry. He kicked down barrels along the way as he walked down the empty street. "Why me?" He muttered aggressively punching the bricks, until he was finally quelled by the stinging of his bloody knuckles. His frustration did not end. Arthur really believed that he was on his way to becoming an admiral. He believed that his hopes and dreams were crushed with one fell swoop.

"_That's right, this peace can't stay forever!"_ The young man thought as a sheepish smile grazed upon his lips. He hoped that he would someday be called once again as captain. Arthur strode into the tavern, sitting at the bar. "_For now, I will just relax._"

The tavern Arthur stayed in was just a small quaint establishment near the harbour. He'd always stayed there whenever they returned. It was one of the lesser known taverns around the area. The young man liked it because of the relaxed atmosphere.

Arthur had begun to sip on his whiskey; he liked the taste of it. He closed his eyes taking in the calming atmosphere, as he listened to the soft music produced by the pianist. "_This is the life._" He thought, as he gently swayed.

"Well if it isn't the captain that had caught me red handed~" The voice had a very heavy French accent.

The young man stiffened, opening his eyes. He had a bad feeling that he knew exactly who it was.

The pirate that he had apprehended stood there. It was definitely Captain Francis Bonnefoy; however he seemed different to Arthur. His clothes had been toned down, and he no longer wore the flamboyant hat and coat that he had been wearing before. Other than that, there was no sign that he ever had to struggle.

"You should be dead!" Arthur snapped, as he stood up. His fingers grazed the handle of his pistol, ready to pull it out in case the man in front of him aimed for revenge.

"Calm down! I am only here for a drink!" Francis sat down on the stool beside him. "I will explain everything."

"You better." The green-eyed man cursed the system. He strongly believed that the man that sat beside him should be dead. "_Those bloody pirates should all die. Just like thieves and murderers. Since they're both thieves and murderers, death should be delivered to them more swiftly._" He thought, as he glared daggers into the Frenchman that sat beside him.

"I was let go." Francis stared at Arthur.

"WHAT!?" Arthur stood up and grabbed Francis by the collar. "What is stopping me from, oh I don't know… Reporting you to the authorities and hanging you myself?"

"A free drink? I'm a changed man, I swear!" The Frenchman held both of his arms. "I'm with the French navy!"

The Englishman pushed Francis into his seat, staring at him. "Then why the bloody hell were you a pirate? Don't tell me I was mistaken. Your flag was definitely a pirate's flag. I know what I saw."

Francis ordered another round of drinks. "I was decommissioned. I did not want to leave my ship. See, the sea is like my home, the land being my second home."

Arthur's eyes widened. He'd never thought of the sea that way; however he understood where Francis was coming from. "I see. I was just recently decommissioned."

"I have no ship now, thanks to you. How about a toast to being decommissioned?" Francis raises his glass.

"Why the bloody hell would I be happy about that, you twit." The Englishman grumbled, gripping his glass more.

"A toast to the weakened Navy, due to decommissioning us?" The blue-eyed man laughed uneasily, not wanting to provoke the Englishman's rage.

"I like the sound of that!" Arthur beamed raising his glass, which was by now half empty, tapping it onto Francis's glass. "Wait, so are you still a pirate? I mean you don't even look like one anymore."

Francis chuckled loudly, tucking one of his golden locks into his ear. "Non, I am… A privateer."

"Isn't that the same bloody thing, except one is legal?" Arthur frowned.

"In your eyes. In my eyes, it is doing something for my country." Francis smiled softly.

"Sure, while stealing from your allies." Arthur can't help but feel like he is being deceived. He shrugs off the feeling as he emptied the contents of the glass into his stomach. "Another glass!"

The bartender stared at Arthur. The man knew the Englishman well enough to know that Arthur could not hold is liquor. "Sir, I think it would be in your best interest to hold off after the second glass."

"Oh come on! Francis let's go elsewhere!" Arthur stood placing a few coins by his empty glass. He waited outside for Francis, he wondered if the man would follow.

After a few moments, the blue-eyed Frenchman headed out the door. "Are you sure? The bartender seems to know you well."

"He probably has mistaken me for another sorry drunk!" Arthur shrugged off the warning. He suddenly paused, remembering his restored memory with Alfred. "_No, this is not the time to remember nonsense like that! I should be enjoying my time! They'll ask for me to be back in on my ship as captain in no time!_" The Englishman thought, smiling at Francis. "Come on, I know another tavern near here."

"Do they serve wine?" Francis smiled softly. However his smile seemed almost predatory. Unfortunately Arthur was too busy surveying the harbour to notice.

"That sissy drink? Unfortunately, yes." Arthur opened the door letting Francis in first.

After a while, they both sat down at a small wooden table. Drinks were brought to them. Francis was given cheap wine and Arthur was given cheap whiskey. The Englishman did not protest and drank down the substance. Francis however did, but let it go after a while.

"You don't seem to like pirates very much." Francis started the conversation as he sloshed the cheap wine in his glass.

"Of course not. They're a pain to deal with and use dirty tactics. Surely you do, seeing as though you have a flag proclaiming to the world that you are one." Arthur raised an eyebrow at Francis, wondering why the sudden question.

"They are sailors just like us, out for glory. I do not blame them. Though, there has to be a reason other than that. Perhaps a more _personal_ reason?" The Frenchman pressed on.

Arthur debated on telling Francis the truth. Though he knew if he didn't, the Frenchman would press on further. "My brothers were also in the navy, like myself. They were slayed by pirates and left on hang by the neck on the riggings in the harbour of the very ship they served."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Francis said, knowing that he couldn't say anymore.

The Englishman shrugged. "They got what was coming to them."

"Do you dislike me?" The Frenchman watched the man who sat across from him, anticipating his reply.

"You're not exactly a pirate, and you don't seem very strong. Other than your horrid accent, I don't dislike you. Why do you ask?" The young man replied, finishing his glass of whiskey.

Francis simply replied, "Curiosity."

An hour later, Arthur found himself drinking his fifth glass of whiskey. He watched Francis as he formally sipped on his glass of wine. Their conversation had died down, and the dim, sultry atmosphere had made Arthur almost want to lay his head on the table and sleep. The room spun whenever he sat up. As he looked around, he just felt like vomiting.

"Are you alright?" The Frenchman poked the Englishman on the cheek. He had an amused expression. After all, he did just watch Arthur down two full glasses after he had accused him of being drunk. "Come now, I think it would be best if you stayed with me for the night. I don't want you walking off the harbour on your way home." Francis said, almost melodically.

"Whatever." He stood up, and then he lurched over spilling his guts next to the table.

"That is definitely not attractive." Francis laughed, leaving money and a hefty tip on the table. He took the Englishman's arm and helped him head upstairs. "My room is on the second floor. Don't make us fall, mon cher."

Arthur protested. "M'not drunk you frog. Stop speaking your bloody language, it's offending my ears."

Francis laughed out loud. "Oh? But it sounds like music to mine. I apologize that your ears are offended." He locked the door behind him, and then aided Arthur onto his bed.

The Englishman shut his eyes, at ease in a warm bed. He sighed content, and hoped that he'd feel better in the morning. However he was not left unmoved. Soon hands were pulling the garments off the garments that he wore. "Hey, just leave me alone and let me sleep." He turned to face the opposite direction in hopes that Francis would stop.

"I can't do that, Angleterre." The back of Francis's hand grazed Arthur's cheek. "Why would I let go of such a strong, yet beautiful man?" He smiled softly as he undid Arthur's white silken vest.

Arthur shuddered at the man's touch. He opened his eyes to see Francis smiling softly. "What do you want from me?" His brows knitted as he searched the Frenchman's deep blue eyes for answers. "If it's money you want-"

"I want you, mon lapin." The Frenchman continued to smile as he tugged off Arthur's white linen shirt.

The green-eyed man whined and protested. However he found that he did not have the physical strength or coordination to ward off the Frenchman at the moment.

"Love me." Francis continued his advances. His fingers grazed onto Arthur's soft barren skin, slowly heading to the man's trousers.

"No…" Arthur whined, squirming. His cheeks became more flushed from the sensation of Francis's fingers. However inside him, he wanted someone to touch him. He felt wanted as he heard the Frenchman's words. "_It's been a while since I've had a lover._" He thought to himself, shutting his eyes closed.

"Oui. I want you, Arthur." Francis kissed Arthur's lips and slowly trailed to his ear. To his surprise, Arthur stopped protesting and instead pulled him into a deep tender kiss. He found the kiss of this drunken man unusually satisfying.

Arthur found himself being lured by the Frenchman's words. He allowed the man to do what he wanted to him.

The seemingly normal night became a passionate dance for the two, as both spiralled into the depths of pleasure.

Soon after, Arthur had fallen asleep, curled up closely to Francis. He sighed contently, finding that his heart was bursting with a feeling he'd only felt when he had found his first love.

The Frenchman watched the in his arms sleep. "If you are a forgetful drunk, I would not mind doing this to you once again. However, I'm disappointed that you did not remember me when we met on my ship." He stroked Arthur's cheek and smiled. "My little captain, I only want your heart to be mine. You mean a lot to me, more than you will ever know, mon amour."


End file.
